


It's Real

by blustersquall



Series: Alistair Theirin x Roselyn Cousland [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blustersquall/pseuds/blustersquall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and his fellow Grey Warden, Roselyn Cousland admit how they feel about each other after the Temple of Sacred Ashes</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Real

**Author's Note:**

> It's worth mentioning that Alistair and Roselyn's relationship doesn't follow the canon time line of the game. They flirt, but don't embark on the relationship until after the Temple of Sacred Ashes, which comes after they get promise of age from the Dwarves, elves and mages and their first visit to Redcliffe.

Alistair noticed how she seemed distracted that evening as they collected firewood for the camp. In fact, he had noticed how distracted Roselyn had seemed for weeks, since they had found the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

When they stopped to camp at night she was quiet and subdued. She did not speak much. Not to him or their companions. That she was drawing more and more into herself, spending her time with her mabari rather than him.

He wondered if perhaps he had done something wrong. If he had said something, acted some way that had upset her. He thought about it, but to his mind he did so many foolish things on a daily basis, it could have been anything. His mere presence could have bothered her.

Roselyn was not someone who could be pushed into revealing their feelings. He had discovered that quickly. She spoke in her own time and when forced into something she became aggressive and resentful. 

Her silence was driving him mad. That she would not allow him near annoyed him. If he sat with her, she put space between them. If he offered her his hand to help her over a ditch or a log, she refused it. It was like he was fire to her, that he burned if her came too close.

It was too much. 

It wasn’t just his own mind he was worried about, it was hers too. How he could practically see her shutting him out. Shutting all of their companions out.

The Gauntlet at the temple had been hard for all of them. They had all been forced to face something. Alistair had talked about it with Wynne and with Leliana, he had managed to put his thoughts and what the spirit had said into perspective, gain some clarity.

Roselyn had not. And it had been worse for her.

Alistair remembered the vision of her father that had appeared before them. He remembered her face, her skin going grey and her eyes brimming with tears. He remembered her falling to her knees as the image of Bryce Cousland had disappeared, sobbing and begging him to return.

His heart had ached for her, yet he had been unable to do anything but hold her as she cried and each sob had wracked through her body.

She was a few feet ahead of him, Roo at her side as always, guarding her and protecting her. Her constant companion.

A tremble of unease rippled up Alistair spine as he considered speaking, and what he would say first. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the ground. Roselyn sighed, bending and retrieving a stick.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, lamely. It was a simple question, it opened up a myriad of topics.

“Nothing.” Roselyn replied not looking at him.

Alistair was at her side in a few strides. They were a short distance from the camp, only the sky and the trees would hear them speaking.

“Roselyn,” he said her name with uncharacteristic severity which caught her attention. Her grey eyes turned to him. She looked tired. The nightmares weighed heavy on her, as did their constant traveling. Alistair touched her face hesitantly, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Please.”

To his surprise she did not flinch from his touch, rather she leaned into his skin. He thought she dropped her eyes to his lips for a moment, but then banished the thought from his mind.

He cared for her. He loved her, in fact, had fallen in love with her without her knowing and without knowing it himself. He had never said anything. She was the daughter from a noble family after all, and to embark on a relationship when fate of all Thedas dangled precariously on their shoulders seemed foolish and selfish.

There were also his own fears. That she would laugh at him, reject him. He had never been with anyone. Had never felt for anyone what he did for Roselyn. The thought of telling her, of laying himself bare, frightened him. The thought of her not feeling the same made him cold.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Roselyn explained, “about what my f—” She caught herself. “The vision of my father said to me.”

“Are you so certain it was a vision?” Alistair asked, keeping his voice soft.

“No.” She shook her head.

Close by a twig snapped, surprising them both. Alistair acted quickly, taking Roselyn’s bundle of firewood and putting it on the ground with his. He took her hand and led her further away from the camp in to a clearing beside a small stream.

“There, now we can talk.” He smiled a little. He dropped Roselyn’s hand and watched her walk away from him, teasing her loose hair over her shoulder and running her fingers through it. “You were saying? About the vision of your father?”

“He told me to take the pain and the guilt. To acknowledge it and let it go.” She explained, her voice so soft Alistair had to strain to hear it. He came to her side, turning towards her. “That anger… that grief is all that’s been keeping me going. My desire to return on Howe what he did to my family. I don’t know who I am without it.”

To his knowledge, this was the first time Roselyn had spoken about her family beyond saying they had died. And by Rendon Howe’s hand. Alistair stayed quiet, feeling that if he spoke she would cower and stop.

“How… how do you move on from that? How do you let go?” She asked him, raising her eyes to his.

“I don’t know.” He answered with painful sincerity. He still struggled to move on from the death of Duncan and his Grey Warden brothers and sisters. Sometimes the thought of making Loghain pay for his crimes were all that kept him going. “I think it starts with talking about it. With sharing the way you feel with someone you trust.” 

Alistair saw her eyes drop to a silver ring she wore on her right index finger. On it was the Cousland crest. She fiddled with it, twisting it around her finger. Alistair took a tentative step towards her. “I…” he swallowed hard, “I can be that someone.” He explained, gently grasping Roselyn’s hands in his own and smoothing the pads of his thumbs across her knuckles. “I want to be. If you’ll let me.”

Roselyn smiled, a shy smile, lifting her eyes to his. Taking another step towards her, Alistair could feel the warmth of her body in the space between them. He could feel her breath tickle against his lips, see the tendrils of hair which moved when she breathed.

“Alistair…” Her voice trembled.

“Let me ask you something,” Alistair said, his words spoken low and husky. He felt his stomach clenching, and his heart in his chest beating loud and fast. “All this time we’ve spent together… you know: the tragedy, the brushes with death, the constant battles with the whole Blight looming over us… will you miss it, once it’s over?”

He saw the confusion in Roselyn’s face and felt foolish. “There will always be more battles to fight somewhere.” She answered after a few moments. She took a step back, but Alistair held her hands steady to keep her in place.

“But that doesn’t mean we would necessarily be fighting them together.” He spoke with his voice soft, his eyes slipped shut and he leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. Alistair heard her breathing hitch.

“I know it… might sound strange, considering we haven’t known each other for very long, but I’ve come to… care for you. A great deal. I think maybe it’s because we’ve gone through so much together, I don’t know.” His voice shuddered as he breathed. One of Roselyn’s hands came up to his face, stroking his jaw and his neck. “Or maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m fooling myself.”

Opening his eyes, Alistair saw Roselyn’s cheeks were pink, her eyes closed. The warmth of her fingers stroking his cheek spurred him on. “Am I? Fooling myself?” He asked, feeling dread and worry and fear all swirling within him. “Or do you think you might ever… feel the same way about me?”

Her sigh was shaky. Alistair lay a hand at her waist, a gentle grip to steady her. “Alistair, I don’t…” Her voice cracked and she seemed to choke on her words. “I’m terrified.” He strained to her whispered words. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

All at once, Alistair’s cheek bloomed with heat. He felt a fluttering in his chest, and his knees grow weak beneath him. He couldn’t celebrate, couldn’t shout from the tree tops, not yet. She had said she was terrified. “Why?” He asked, using one hand to tilt her head up. “What’s so frightening?”

“I’ve lost everyone I ever loved.” She told him, eyes watering. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?” A tear trickled down her cheek. Alistair brushed it away with his thumb.

He kissed her forehead which send a warm shudder down her spine. “Because this is real, Roselyn.” He murmured ardently against her skin. “What I feel for you, what you feel for me. It’s real. And not even the Maker could tear me away from you.”

“Alistair-”

He stopped her protest catching her lips with his in a kiss which was searing and smothered his senses. He touched her face, curving his hand around the back of her neck to arc her head back. All her resistance was gone, her mouth opened on a sigh and he was lost within her. Enveloped in her arms around him, the glide of her soft lips and the rough allure of her tongue against his. 

Alistair pulled her close, blocking any gaps between their bodies. He felt weak and strong. Light-headed but grounded all at the same time. Confused but certain that this was the right thing. This is what she wanted as well as he did.

Roselyn broke away, her eyes fluttering open and practically shining in the faint light the moon afforded them. Her breaths were short and rapid, her lips open and so close that it took all of Alistair’s will power not to kiss her again.

“That… That wasn’t too soon, was it?”

“No.” She shook her head, “no. I… I liked it.”

“Good.” Grinned Alistair, “I’ll take that as a good sign.” He leaned in to kiss her again, but stopped when he felt Roselyn’s hands on his chest.

“I just…” She dropped her gaze, “I don’t want to rush things. Can we…” She hesitated, “can we take things slow? Is that alright?”

Alistair felt adoration swell within him. He had never witnessed Roselyn being shy or bashful. He found it endearing, her uncertainty and the sweetness of her nature. “Of course.” He assured her, raising her head with his fingers beneath her chin. “We’ll do things as slow as you want.” A contented, almost dreamy sigh escaped him. “No rush. I want you to be happy.”

Dropping his shoulders, Alistair’s eyes wandered her face imprinting her features to memory. Her almond shaped grey eyes, the way her hair fell and curled at the ends. The colour of her lips, the flush to her cheeks. The curve of her jaw and the temptation of her lips. 

“Maker’s breath but you’re beautiful.” The pink color of her cheeks deepened. “I am a lucky man…” He kissed her with shy gentleness. Worshiping her as a pilgrim might worship at the shrine of Andraste.

“Now,” he heard the quaver in his own voice and checked it with a subtle clearing of his throat, “let’s get back to… what we were up to before. Lest I forget why we’re here.”


End file.
